


Strawberries & Cigarettes

by detroit_become_writings



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Human AU, M/M, reed900
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-08-27 19:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16708354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detroit_become_writings/pseuds/detroit_become_writings
Summary: reed900 human!AU. Smartass Harvard graduate Richard Anderson strolls into DPD on his first day as a trainee detective, only to find he is paired with a decidedly unfriendly “mentor”, DPD’s resident asshole, Gavin Reed. Is he really as much of a bully as everyone says he is?





	1. Caffeinated

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to this 10-part reed900 human!au fic! The title of the fic is taken from the Troye Sivan song of the same name. The protagonist, Richard, is based off of the human!AU created on Tumblr by @ask-humanrichard-dbh. I hope you enjoy the relationship developments of Gavin and Richard, the two gay cat boi cops, as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smartass Harvard graduate Richard Anderson strolls into DPD on his first day as a trainee detective, only to find he is paired with a decidedly unfriendly “mentor”, DPD’s resident asshole, Gavin Reed. Is he really as much of a bully as everyone says he is?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some angst specifically involving: mention of bullying; mention of homophobia (only in the context that Richard worries that won’t be accepted by his new partner, before he has met him); overthinking and feeling anxious on the first day of a new job. Apart from that, it’s just two cat boi cops giving each other a run for their money…

Monday September 5th, 2039

09:02

“C’mon in!”

Jeffrey Fowler’s bark resounded from behind the door of his office like a bullet. Sweat drenching my palms, I shakily lifted the handle of the door, striding into my new boss’s office with a façade of cool confidence that only four years at Harvard could have taught me.

“Captain Fowler, so good to meet you at last!” I forced a pleasant grin and held out a hand, still drenched with sweat. His facial expression did not lift as I had hoped it would. Clearly, this was no place for pleasantries. He shook my hand briefly before gesturing to the chair in front of his desk, into which I practically leap-frogged. The first thirty seconds of my new job, so far, were not going as smoothly as I had hoped.

“Give me a second, please.”

The Captain tapped away at his computer for far more than a second, leaving little old me sitting bolt upright in the chair, attempting to maintain a collected calm and an alert confidence at the same time. To be honest, I probably failed at both. I clasped my hands together in my lap in a vain attempt to stop them shaking so much. My glasses were steaming up slightly, but I didn’t dare move to clean them. I nervously rolled up the sleeves on my black turtle-neck sweater, then rolled them back down again, several times.

“So…” he stared at me with hard eyes, and I couldn’t help but focus on the reflection of the blue strip lighting on his shiny forehead, “Richard Anderson. Welcome to the Detroit Police Department,” the corners of his mouth curled slightly in what was an attempt at a welcoming smile, but only sent more waves of fear jolting through my spine. “I was just re-familiarising myself with your CV. Impressive, y’know…” his eyes fell back onto the computer screen as he scrolled, “Your track record is frankly the best we’ve had from a new recruit since a certain uncle of yours…” his voice trailed off, “I’m sure Hank’s told ya everything you need to know.”

I swallowed, a nervous chuckle escaping my lips, “A-actually, he…implied I’d be getting a full briefing from you on my first day, so…”

Fowler let rip a startlingly loud bout of laughter. “Yeah, yeah, ‘course he did. Anyways…” his facial expression and tone snapped back to their usual grouchy deadpan, as he looked me dead in the eyes, “There’s one thing you need to know, bucko. And lemme be straight with you from the start…” he shifted slightly in his chair, leaning closer to me, causing my heart rate to sky-rocket, gripping the seat of my chair tight in fear, “It don’t matter how many majors you had, or how many crazy ass philosophy papers you gone n’ gotten top in your class; it don’t matter if you were one of Detroit’s top criminologists and crime statistics analysts before arriving here…now you’re here, you’re a cop. Simple as that. Your technique is in the streets, not in a book, sonny. You gotta toughen up n’ learn from the best in our department - and fast. I need to see quick progress from you on missions, ‘cause Captain Fowler gives away no badges ‘til he’s absolutely 100% convinced you can be the best for us. Got that?”

I was practically pinned to my seat in fear. I managed a small nod.

“Okay.” He sat back down, “Tough pep talk’s over. I’m assigning you to one of our…should I say, one of our most experienced Detectives. And sure as hell,” he glanced at me with a twinkle in his eye, “If no one else can toughen up a skinny ass nerd like you, Gavin Reed can.”

09:13

“So, how was your meeting with Fowler?” Connor was too busy flipping a gum ball around in his fingers and trying to see if he could accurately throw it up in the air and catch it in his mouth to notice my pale, terrified expression. It was only after he failed and dropped the candy on the floor that the warm, comforting brown eyes of my twin brother met mine, and were clouded with concern.

“What’s up? What’d he say to you, Rich?”

“He…” I let out a heavy sigh, “Look, he was kinda degrading about…he’s assigning me to this guy who’s supposedly gonna toughen up my skinny nerd ass or some shit like that, I just…I…kinda don’t know what to make of any of this, Con…”

“Why?” Connor frowned, taking another piece of candy out of the packet, offering one to me which I hastily declined, “Who’s your Detective partner?”

“Some guy called Gavin Reed?”

Connor practically choked the moment the candy landed in his mouth.

“Ohhhhhhh,” Connor looked at me sideways, in a way which I knew shit was about to go down. My heart sank even lower.

“What- what’s that supposed to mean?!” I snapped, running a hand through my hair nervously.

Connor raised both eyebrows and a small, cheeky lopsided grin. “Good luck, dude. He’s not exactly what you’d call…friendly.”

My face hit my hands immediately. Jesus Christ. The doubting voices in the back of my head were now firmly telling me I should never have left my other job.

A comforting hand found my shoulder. Two comforting hands.

“Be alright, son,” the deep, homely voice of my uncle and the stench of cigar smoke put a small smile back on my face, as I looked up, slightly bleary-eyed, to the welcoming wrinkles of Hank’s face. “No one lays a finger on my nephews in this goddam place. And if Gavin so much as looks at you funny…” his tone became quiet, menacing, “Send ‘im my way. Ya got that?”

I nodded gratefully, although the serious weight of his tone didn’t really help to ease my concerns. What was it about this guy that had everyone talking? Could he really be that bad?

Guess I’ll find out, huh…

11:34

10am passed. 11am passed. 11:30.

No sign of the resident asshole…no sign whatsoever of the Detective who was supposed to be guiding me through my steps as a trainee; who was supposed to be “toughening me up”. I couldn’t get that out of my head. I kept swallowing my anger deeper into my belly, but it kept rising again, and again. I can’t believe my boss really thought that I was that much of a wimp…was he homophobic or something? Hank and Connor never said he was…they’d have warned me about that, they’d have discouraged me from applying if…

Oh, shit - wait - no. Maybe - maybe this guy was gonna be homophobic?

“If no one else can toughen up a skinny ass nerd like you, Gavin Reed can.”

Shit…SHIT…

I was sweating. I threw my pen down. No. There was no way - no way in hell I was gonna stay here - no way I was gonna work here if that was the case. No way in hell…

Come on, Richard, you have absolutely zero evidence that this is what he meant. Honestly. Hank and Connor would have told you. They’ll protect you. It’s all gonna be okay…I’m sure you’re just jumping to crazy ass conclusions, you’re overthinking it because you’re worried…

Letting a deep sigh out of my chest, I kept my head down, keeping focussed on the piles of paperwork which Fowler had allocated for me. But every so often, I would glance up at the empty desk beside me, noticing the coffee stains and faint ginger hairs on the chair.

Wait. They weren’t human hairs. They looked too thin. Or maybe I was just wishfully thinking there was some resident DPD cat who came and occupied the absent Detective’s chair…

11:33. Still no sign of him. Jesus Christ, talk about anticipation. Did this guy even fucking exist?!

And then, just as I thought I was losing all motivation to continue sorting through the paperwork for some non-existent asshole whose reputation preceded him…

BAM.

The precinct door slammed open, and there was a kind of rustling amongst all the cops in the area. The man moved so intensely, it was like he’d brought a whole fucking thunderstorm with him. Pages actually flew off my desk slightly as he approached, without giving any eye contact, slumped down on the chair that had until this point remained empty, not even bothering to remove his jacket, and immediately rubbed his tired-looking face with his hands, letting out a sigh that shook more fear into me than Fowler had done all morning.

That fear was dampened slightly by the sight of him raise his feet to the desk, laying back in his chair as if he’d turned up two hours and 34 minutes late just so he could go back to sleep…

Oh. He was one of those types, was he? I raised an eyebrow, shifting in my seat. Since he hadn’t bothered to introduce himself, I decided to do the honour.

“You must be Detective Reed!” I smiled pleasantly, “Hi, my name’s Richard-”

“I already knew that, kiddo,” he snarled back at me, not even bothering to look at me, “Just stay outta my way.”

I stared at him, blinking several times.

“It’s real nice to meet you, too,” I muttered under my breath before I could even stop myself. Something about his almost comical levels of rudeness seemed to press a button inside of me. No way was I going down with this shit. Oh no. Complacent? Angry? Selfish? Probably hungover? Obviously a total mess? Well, at least this was nothing like as bad as I’d been expecting…

As I returned to the paperwork without giving him a further thought, a tiny slither of a smug smile coated my lips. So, Fowler thought this guy was gonna knock some sense into me, did he? For real? I think you’ll find, Captain Bossman, that it’ll soon be the other way round…

“Hey, tea boi,” Gavin growled sharply, stabbing through my thoughts like a knife, “Wanna make yourself useful? Go make me a coffee,” he leant over and grabbed a number of papers from under my nose, smirking, “…leave the real work to the guy who knows.”

I stared right back at him - this time, unblinking. I have never felt so sharply offended and absolutely enraged in a single moment.

“…excuse me?”

Gavin raised his eyes to mine. The fire of absolute, silent fury that stood between us in that moment was something else.

“You need me to repeat that?”

I stood up suddenly, violently….knocking my own coffee over the whole pile of paperwork. We both looked down at the coffee. We both looked back at each other. Grey eyes met grey-blue. Hard. Neither of us stirred. It was the single most intense stare-off of my life.

He needed to know I was not going to back down. I was not tea boi. I was not a skinny ass nerd. And I was not going to be bullied by his insecure, egotistical ass.

As I slowly sat back down, not even paying attention to the coffee that was drenching my morning’s hard work and dripping into my lap, my eyes didn’t leave his. His eyes softened somehow - he looked down.

Submission. Acceptance. Even a kind of…humility. In a single moment of unshakeable defiance, I had won his respect. And from now on, I was going to do whatever I could to ensure the DPD’s resident asshole was not going to be an asshole towards me.

I couldn’t help the slightly smug grin spread over my lips. Oh boi, if only Fowler could see me right now…


	2. Decaffeinated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It becomes apparent very quickly to Richard that his cop partner is not pulling his weight…but maybe there’s something about Gavin that Richard hasn’t cracked. Yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here goes…chapter 2 of the 10-part human!au reed900 fic! Here we have awkward Richard who still won’t take any shit from his cop partner; an angry, protective older twin bro Connor; and a fun, smiley Tina who seems to know more than she lets on… Enjoy!  
> Warnings: a bit of angst, some mild verbal abuse, mention of bullying and past experience with bullying, also quite a bit of profanity (because…it’s Gavin)

Monday September 12th, 2039

09:04

One week in. Yes. Five days of total chaos and abject mess, completed. To begin all over again at 9am on Monday.

Safe to say, Gavin Reed was turning out to be the partner from hell. It wasn’t that he was doing anything, per se. No - he hadn’t as much as frowned at me since I stood up to him on Day 1. It’s more that…he was doing nothing. Nothing at all. That’s right: Week 1 in a new office, a new job, in new surroundings with a new load of tasks to complete that I wasn’t even trained to do, and…my mentor was away with the fairies. Or at least, away with his packet of cigarettes and beloved coffee beans. Never have I witnessed such a professional procrastinator in all my days.

If there’s anything that drove my perfectionism, drive and sense of fair play absolutely nuts, it’s assholes who pretend they’re working when I know goddam well they’re just playing another round of solitaire on their phone, and then when something goes wrong? Oh, well, it couldn’t possibly be the Detective’s fault. Blame it on the trainee, why don’t you…because obviously the Detective is completely in the right, simply because he’s the Detective and I’m not.

God knows how he even ended up with that fucking title. It’s not like he’d exactly shown much sign of having earned it…

I stumbled into the precinct at 08:59, heart pounding due to the sheer panic of almost being late. Despite Gavin’s lack of communication, commitment and cooperation, I could not be seen to be the one slacking. Oh, hell no. I was going around making sure every single person in that goddam precinct was fully aware that I was the one pulling the entire weight of the paperwork for Team Loser over here.

Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t at his desk when I arrived. I smiled to myself and shrugged, placing my brand new black leather jacket on the back of my seat. You can imagine how I spent my weekend…Richard L. Anderson’s prime wisdom is that there’s nothing a little retail therapy can’t solve, especially when it’s Gucci. Oh god. I’m still 3 weeks off my first paycheque, too…

Bustling around my desk and laying out all (our) my papers, I made sure it looked like I had been in the office for hours already and then took a moment to dash to the bathroom. I wasn’t exactly expecting a certain someone to show up for several hours yet.

But when I returned to my desk at 09:04, little did I realise I was in for a surprise.

There was no sign of the maverick detective. But, almost eerily, placed in the centre of my desk beside the piles of paperwork was a single cup of steaming hot, freshly-made coffee. I stared at it for about thirty seconds, feeling a bit like one of those dudes in a haunted house mystery crime documentary upon having witnessed some paranormal activity.

Who…how…what in the hell…?!

“Connor?” I called out without even batting an eyelid.

“Whuuuut?” Came a drowsy yawn from the desk across the way. I glanced over my shoulder to witness my brother, hood up, laying down on his arms on the desk, looking decidedly like he could do with a dose of caffeine himself.

“Did-…did you just…” I picked up the coffee and inspected it. Black americano. Very strong. No hint of milk or sugar. This simply could not have been made by someone who knew me, and the fact I only drink decaffeinated brew when served in the milkiest latte possible with all kinds of vanilla and cinnamon syrups and sprinkles.

“Huh? What?” Connor sat up, his eyes widening with concerned, “I wouldn’t touch that - it’s Gavin’s. I just saw him make it…”

“…then why in the hell did he leave it on my-”

My sentence was cut short in my throat by the arrival of the man himself. Holding a coffee cup of his own. He sat down, not so much as flicking his eyes in my direction, before apparently resuming reading through a document he’d taken off of my desk.

What in the name of fuck is happening at this moment?

I was completely flummoxed. Slowly, I turned to my desk, sat down tentatively, still gripping the coffee cup perhaps too tightly, glancing at him with nervous puzzlement, and placed the beverage he had so kindly provided for me to my lips.

10:34

Well. I knew within the first sip that this coffee definitely was not decaf. My anxiety was bad enough without consuming a drug that made my hands shake and gave me palpitations. So, instead of being assertive, or natural; instead of acknowledging the kindness of my cop partner and actually turning it into a positive experience…I bottled up and pretended to drink it, so as not to offend him. Smooth, Richard.

It wasn’t going so well an hour later, when I had a lukewarm still-full cup of coffee on my desk that I had only touched a few times. The minutes had dragged on; I’d been waiting for what seemed like days for Gavin to finally go for his blessed smoke break, but it seemed as though he’d turned over a new leaf or something. Or maybe he’d quit smoking. Maybe he was trying to be a better person…Ha. I could dream.

When he finally left his desk at 10:34, something in my chest released; I could finally dispose of the coffee without looking like a total asshole. I scurried to the bathroom, tipped it down the sink, sprayed water around the basin so as to not look suspicious, and buried the cup far too deep in the trash can. Call me paranoid, but I really didn’t need him turning on me because I’d rejected his somewhat unusual gesture of friendship. Friendship? No way, that was way too strong a word. More like, suggesting a truce…

I left the bathroom and made my way coolly over to the coffee machine to make my “second” coffee of the day. A chatty, friendly lady known as Officer Chen was hanging out by the machine, who immediately shot me a warm grin as I arrived.

“Hey, Richard! How’re you doing? Survive your first week okay?!”

I stalled, surprised she even knew my name. We’d only ever spoken once before, and that was because I was a dumbass who couldn’t work the photocopier, and I didn’t introduce myself properly to her because I’d been too busy freaking out internally about breaking the machine…well, maybe my true, dumbass nature is becoming famous here already…

“Yeah, I-I’m okay, thanks…” I smiled awkwardly back, obviously not concealing my nerves. The whole day had just been one bout of adrenaline to another… “Officer-…”

She laughed, the sound mimicking a kind of chattering bird of paradise. “Just call me Tina, darl, we’re not all that goddam formal here!”

Something about her friendly disposition caused me to let out an audible sigh of relief. It sure would be nice to have someone else to talk to in this place besides my family members…she chuckled at my obvious relief.

“C’mon, lemme get you a coffee. How d’you like it?” She started pressing buttons all too quickly, which caused me to jump.

“Uh- sorry, I-I only drink decaffeinated.”

“Oh?” Her wry smile was a little confusing. “How come?”

I sighed, “Look, it’s…urgh…it’s a long story…basically, I have, like, anxiety and it just makes it way worse. Like, I get all sorts of palpitations and shit like that. It’s not exactly ideal, y’know?” I tried to laugh it off.

Tina just smiled back at me, warmly. “Oh, it’s okay, sweetie! I didn’t wanna offend you - or, y’know, worse, by giving you something you can’t even drink?!”

“No, no,” I laughed, “Not like what happened this morning…”

“Uh huh?” She was busy with various cups and pressing buttons; I had no idea what she was doing, but I just trusted her, “I was gonna ask you how you’re finding working with Detective Reed.” She shot me a look that I couldn’t quite place. It was almost like a kind of knowing.

I raised an eyebrow. “You know him?”

Tina chuckled, “Oh, I’ve known Gavin for years, honey! We joined the DPD at the same time; we even got our first promotions in the same month. Yeah…” She turned back to me, with a buoyant spring in her step, “One decaf coffee for you, sir!”

I chuckled, taking the coffee gladly. How was this woman so nice?! Dammit, was I just at the wrong side of the precinct or was she genuinely the DPD’s resident mom friend?

“Honestly, Tina, this is real sweet of y-”

“Ah, don’t mention it.” She pulled me up a wheelie chair and leant against the edge of the desk, sipping her own coffee. “So…how is it? You guys getting along okay so far?”

I think my facial expression just said it all. She patted my arm in consolation.

“Trust me…I know what he’s like, Richard; that man sure is a tough nut to crack. But, y’know…” she lowered her voice, still smiling, “Once you’ve cracked him, he’s your man!” She chuckled, finishing her coffee and flamboyantly discarding the cup in the recycling without further ado, sliding back onto the floor and heading back to her workstation. “Enjoy your decaf, buddy. I’ll see you round - and take care of yourself, okay? Have a great day!”

13:45

The post-lunch lull. Urghhh. Always my least favourite part of the day. Apparently, my cop partner shared my disdain and inability to focus. Then again, he just seemed to be like that all the goddam time.

Until now.

“Hey, dipshit.” 

I paused, not looking up from my computer. If he wanted my attention, that certainly was not the way to get it.

“I’m talkin’ to you!” He was on his feet, leaning over his desk. “You just gonna sit there ignorin’ me or what?!”

I sighed, trying not to let him see me roll my eyes. “Yes?”

“This analysis you did,” he was now standing behind my chair. My body tensed as he smacked a pile of paperwork down in front of my nose. “It’s fuckin’ bullshit!”

I stared down at pages after pages of last week’s work, torn apart by a thick, messy permanent marker pen, scrawled and scribbled in the margins like some kind of crazy-ass professor with a C grade student. Something in my stomach churned. If I had a weakness, it was me getting something wrong in an academic situation. I held my breath.

“Oh, I-i’m sorry…”

He didn’t even bother responding, just slumped back down in his desk chair like it was a very comfy armchair in front of the fire. I stuttered, staring down at his corrections with a dry mouth. 

“M-maybe if we were to analyse this differently, from the standpoint of-”

“Yeah, yeah, yadda yadda,” Gavin cut across me, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head, eyes closed, “Why don’t ya go do all the fancy-ass analysis yourself, Mister Harvard Graduate, since you’re clearly so fuckin’ confident ‘bout it?!”

I blinked, twice. Even though my heart was racing, a pit of terror in my stomach, I still stood my ground. He even gave me the courtesy of looking over at me when I didn’t budge, his eyes shooting me with the most intense contempt I’ve seen from a single person. At least he didn’t bother to sugar coat how he felt about me, I suppose…

“With all due respect, Detective Reed, that’s not quite how it work-”

“And you think I don’t know how it works?!”

Uh oh. He was on his feet. He was my side of the desk. Shit was about to get real. From the desk across the way, I saw Connor rise from his chair, eyes pinned on the both of us like a hawk.

“You actually seriously believe that I, Gavin L. Reed, a Detective with over a decade’s experience in this field, needs to be told how to do his job by some…” he pointed a finger threateningly, his face close to mine, hissing through gritted teeth, “over-educated, four-eyed, rookie prick like you?!”

I simply stared back at him. It was becoming increasingly tough keeping my resolve when this belligerent cop was trying to push me back down. But I wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t afford to give him the benefit of belittling me.

“If we’re going to work together, we should probably put our differences to one side and be professional about this,” I deadpanned, all the while squeezing my hands into protective fists.

Gavin simply burst out into incredulous, mocking laughter. “Oh yeah? And you make the rules around here, do ya?” 

“-hey, get the fuck away from my brother you jerk!”

It was me who pulled Connor off of him. Gavin wheezed slightly, shaking his head, muttering, “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me…”

“I will not tolerate you putting Richard through hell every single day of his life!” Connor was panting, flushed, anger seeping through ever pore.

But Gavin barely responded - he just sounded tired. “Why don’t you two twinks just leave me the fuck alone; go home, bake your uncle some cookies-”

“You heard me!” Connor was sweating, practically seething through gritted teeth, “The whole precinct is watching you, Gavin Reed-”

“Oh, how fuckin’ terrifying!” His high-pitched mockery of Connor’s voice was almost comical, and yet, unsurprisingly, the disgruntled Detective didn’t even attempt to put up any kind of stand against him. Gavin simply shot me a fiery glare and stormed out of the precinct as fast as possible, fumbling with a cigarette packet. Empty threats, as ever. I was starting to get used to his pattern of behaviour. I sighed, standing in the wake of where this tornado had just been, massaging my forehead with my index finger. Today had been, in a word, highkey. 

“Rich, why d’you always gotta go and stop me from protecting you?!” Connor was right up in my face, his anguish palpable.

“Don’t,” I muttered firmly, “Don’t you freakin’ go getting involved, Con-”

“But he was about to go and fucking hurt you!!!!” 

Frightened brown eyes met mine; fearing for my safety, concerned for my welfare. If anyone found it hard to back off in a situation like this, it was Connor. Hell, he’d saved my ass for so many years in school. But we weren’t ten years old any more, and this wasn’t the first time I’d been subjected to this kind of behaviour from jealous, insecure short-ass jerks. (Why d’you think I knew exactly how not to let the bully win? Something to do with years of experience, maybe…)

“Connor.” My eyes were hard as steel, my voice sharp, “You gotta leave this to me, please. I’ve got to do this alone. I can’t let him disrespect me. He needs to know that on no uncertain terms am I lowering myself to his level by going down with his bullshit, okay?”

From the way Connor’s eyes flickered back at me, I knew he trusted my judgement. He respected my wishes and slowly backed away, but not once did his eyes fall from our desk, surveying silently like a loyal guard dog on alert. 

But enough was enough. Not even giving a single fuck, just…headed to the bathroom. I had to get away, to ground myself. Steal a moment of calm for myself.

Ten minutes later, I returned. There was still no sign of the maverick detective. But…holy shit. Holy shit.

Almost eerily, placed in the centre of my desk beside the piles of scribbled, failed paperwork was a single cup of steaming hot, freshly-made coffee. And this time, there was even a sticky note attached to it. Scrawled across it in a permanent marker pen, in the same handwriting I had just seen deface my entire last week’s work, was the single word…

DECAF. 

“You know, Richard, you’re impressive for a trainee.” I looked up suddenly to see Tina, leaning casually against my desk, smiling warmly at me with her sunny disposition. “And y’know something else?” She lowered her voice, “I know shit can get tough sometimes, but…Gavin doesn’t bother with people unless he thinks they’re worth his time. And I get the feeling he’s actually kinda impressed with you - not that he’d ever, y’know, actually admit it… Anyways, enjoy the decaf, hun!” 

Tina strode off, her chuckles ringing out like a chattering bird through the dull acoustic of the office…leaving me standing there, staring down at my coffee. 

Flummoxed. Completely flummoxed.


	3. Light My Cigarette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Fowler gives the motley duo an ultimatum to cooperate or be taken off the case, Richard takes matters into his own hands, with some unexpected results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some angst, themes of addiction & withdrawal (smoking). 
> 
> You can also find this on my blog: https://detroit-become-writings.tumblr.com/post/181088460076/strawberries-cigarettes-humanrk900-x-gavin

**_Wednesday September 14th, 2039_ **

**_09:01_ **

“And if you two don’t start cooperating within 24 hours, I’m taking you both off of this case, understood?!”

Fowler’s tone was hard as nails, and yet, somehow, it seemed to resonate throughout the dead, dry acoustic of his office, as if ringing through my ears and piercing right down into my chest. There I was, next to my so-called “partner”, both sat in front of our boss’s desk, like two delinquent high schoolers who’d been summoned to the principal’s office because they just can’t quit busting up each other’s lips and breaking each other’s noses every other recess. It was kinda ironic: as Gavin’s gaze fell indignantly to the floor at Fowler’s ultimatum, I happened to notice that linear scar cut across his nose bridge.

Huh. At least  _that_ wasn’t my fault. Apparently, everything else seemed to be. Never mind the fact I’d tirelessly read and re-read every single document and was holding this whole thing together, complacent Detective partner and all, by the skin of my teeth. All to have it slapped back in my face on Day 7 of my working here.

As we made our way out of Fowler’s office, I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye. Well, he didn’t exactly give me a chance, as he stormed off out into the smoking area without further ado. I clenched my fists into balls, digging my nails into the palms of my hands slightly in fury, swallowing my tears as I headed back to my desk.

I didn’t expect to see him for some time. In fact, in that moment, I kind of hoped I never saw his face again. As I grabbed the next lever arch file of documents, slammed them down on the desktop, my uncle awoke suddenly from his not-even-mid-morning nap with a grunt. I paid him no mind. I couldn’t be dealing with having to explain to him that I’d already been sent to the doghouse through no fucking fault of my own and I wasn’t even two weeks on the job. He’d only go talk to Fowler on my behalf, try and “make it better for his precious nephew”, which would cause exactly the kind of implied nepotism and family favouritism that I did not want or need tarring my name even blacker than it was currently.

I sighed, resting my elbows on the case files, massaging my weary face, wiping my tear-glazed eyes behind my glasses.  _Fuck this shit. Fuck this entire day, week, and year. How much would it take for me to quit right now and go back to being criminologist…maybe even go to grad school, like I should’ve done…_

9:34

He-who-shall-remain-nameless shuffled past the desk. Didn’t sit down. Didn’t acknowledge my existence. Well, what a fucking surprise. Gavin Reed wasn’t one for apologies, unless they were in the form of random cups of coffee left on my desk…at a time when it suited him, I should add.

From nearby, I overheard Tina’s jolly voice resounding out over a sullied half-whisper from my cop partner. Something about a lighter - he’d lost his, or it had run out of fluid, or some shit. Tina didn’t have one, and the Detective’s distress was mounting. Short of just yelling right at his friend, he stormed back out to the smoking area, flicking his middle finger at Chris, a passing colleague who stopped to ask if he was okay. Bad move.

**_10:02_ **

Gavin had been gone over twenty minutes now. I had read the same paragraph three times in a row, and still not taken any of it in. Something bubbled uncomfortably in my stomach as my eyes fell down at my watch.

_“…if you two don’t start cooperating within 24 hours, I’m taking you both off of this case!”_

24 hours. Well, make that 23. I laid my forehead on the desk, throbbing with stress and anxiety. It was obvious that Gavin was going to be making absolutely no effort whatsoever to improve our working relationship. I didn’t give a shit about his work record, but I personally could not afford to be bumped off the first case I’d ever been assigned as a trainee, simply because we didn’t get along.

My mind replayed the scene with Tina and his distress about not being able to smoke. I was fully aware of smokers and their anxiety and grouchiness when that benefit was taken from them, especially at a time of stress.

With a heavy sigh, I braced myself for the inevitable. It seemed Richard L. Anderson was gonna have to play good cop, and give this douchebag the benefit of the doubt he undoubtedly didn’t deserve. Or, at least, so I thought.

**_10:05_ **

I made my way out the back door of the precinct, onto the concrete steps that led down into the small, concrete courtyard that acted as the smoking area. Clenched tightly in my right hand was Connor’s spare lighter, in a bright, sunny yellow hue. It was as much of a gesture of friendship as I could possibly muster in this situation.

Unsurprisingly, Gavin was there, slumped against one of the steps, hood up, jacket hunched around his shoulders, looking positively shaken up. Upon closer inspection, I noticed his hands were trembling. God knows, it wasn’t all that warm, and he’d clearly gone too long without a cigarette…

I approached slowly, cautiously, almost on tip-toe.

“D-do you still need a lighter?” I mumbled.

His face snapped to mine like some kind of wild animal, eyes as wide as dinner plates - and yet, in another breath, I saw that his eyes were bleary; bloodshot; swollen. His stubble was more prominent; more unkempt; the dark circles under his eyes more penetrating.

“S-shit…” he fumbled with the cigarette between his fingers, quaking, and it would’ve dropped to the floor had I not caught it. Wasting no time, I took the cigarette, singeing the end of it in the flame emerging from Connor’s yellow lighter, and handed it to the quivering wreck of a Detective who sat next to me. He took in the deepest draught, and exhaled, and lay back on the steps with the biggest, most satisfied sigh, eyelids falling shut as if he’d suddenly risen from the pit of hell and been accepted through the pearly gates of heaven…

“Oh,  _Jesus_ …” he whispered, “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that…”

I continued to stare at him, a flurry of mixed emotions filling my chest. I knew all too well from my brother just how much it hurt for someone with this much of an addiction to be kept from his beloved tarry nicotine stick…and that’s why I’d figured this was the only way to get the guy to cooperate. Well…not just cooperate; to function.

 _Oh, Jesus_ , I whispered internally…

Another draught, another sigh of relief and a puff of smoke that wafted around us both like a silent veil.

“You want some?” He was looking at me again, holding out the cigarette between two fingers in my direction.

There was something about the way his grey-blue eyes connected with mine in that singular moment that…I don’t know. It kind of…caught me off guard. It was almost like this absolute wreck of a man was attempting to smile…attempting to say thank you…to me…

…but it’s like he couldn’t do it with words. Words were too obvious, too official. But his  _eyes_ -

“No, I’m okay,” I waved my hand, eyes falling to the ground way too fast for comfort, “But…thanks for the offer.”

“You sure, Richard?”

Richard.  _Richard_?!? Since when had he called me anything besides  _tea boi, dipshit, Mister Harvard Graduate, four-eyed prick_ , or just…nothing at all?! My act of offering him my brother’s lighter at his time of need had suddenly redeemed me of all my so-called sins and warranted  _being called by my actual name_?!? I took way too long to respond to that one.

“I mean, let’s be honest here…” he continued, and my deeply confused and somewhat perturbed grey eyes met his unusually sincere, unusually calm grey-blue: “I’ve been a total jerk to you for the whole of the past week and a half, and you’ve not even so much as fuckin’ flinched at any of it. So…” he held out the cigarette again, cocking his head, a slight smirk creeping up the corner of his lips, “Here ya go. Call it a token of my…respect.”

I don’t even know what came over me right at that moment. An unstoppable wave of relief washed over my chest as I snatched the cigarette out of his grubby fingers and inhaled the hell out of that delicious tar stick for the first time since college. And I did not give a single fuck. Not one.

He watched me, and by the time I’d taken my fill, I swear to God he was actually smiling, just a little. He, Mister Thundercloud,  _was actually fucking smiling right at me._

_Uh…so…mission accomplished, Richard? The FUCK?!_

“Thanks,” I muttered, “You’ve no idea how much I needed that.”

“Oh, I do,” He nodded, a slight twinkle in his eye as he took the cigarette back off me, “Trust me. I know.”

I raised an eyebrow and let out a kind of scoff. “Yeah, yeah, like as if you actually gave a damn about how your actions affect other people…”

His eyes hit the floor as he exhaled again, and he looked back at me, that curious, cheeky twinkle in his eyes still prominent. “So I take it you didn’t enjoy your free decaf latte on Monday afternoon, huh?”

I paused, as my suspicions were finally confirmed. “I didn’t mean it like that-”

He laughed raucously, dispelling the tension from the air like a puff of smoke. “Just kidding. I know you were appreciative of your senior playing the tea boi for once.”

“What? The f-…I didn’t ask you to-”

“I know you didn’t.” He smirked back at me as he threw the cigarette butt on the ground and reached for another from the packet.

I frowned, “Then why did you-”

“See if you’d be able to figure out how I knew you don’t drink caffeine, smartass.”

I found myself chuckling slightly at that quip. Oh, he’d got me there. “Wait…” my eyes lit up, “I should’ve figured you’d be the kind of guy Tina would-”

Gavin roared with laughter again. “Whoa whoa  _whoa_! Whatcha sayin’ about me and Tina Bae?!”

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a tiny glimmer of pride in my chest that I was now the one cracking  _him_. “Exactly. You two are obviously dating.”

But my smugness was short-lived. I watched, a little perplexed, as Gavin just snorted into the back of his hand, sniggering with all the grace of a tween who’d just discovered a new swear word.  

“Oh, boi,” he muttered, “You obviously didn’t major in Gaydar, did you.”

I blinked, my face blank. The cogs in my head turned, all too slowly. I frowned…

“You mean…Tina’s a  _lesbian_?!?”

…and the look Gavin gave me in that moment is one I couldn’t forget if I tried.

“Seriously…” he shook his head, staring down at the ash wedged beneath his fingernails, “…for someone with your level of intellect, I’m really fucking surprised at just how much of a dumbass you are, Rich.” He paused, grinning back at me again, “Wait, do they even call you that? Rich? Richie boi?”

I sniggered, and before my brain could connect with my mouth, I blurted out, “Actually, I kinda used to be called Nines.”

“ _Nines_?”

“Uh huh.” I bit the inside of my lip, suddenly confronted with a wall of self-consciousness. Uhhh…so, why exactly was I telling him this again?

“What’s that supposed t’ mean, huh?” He nudged me in the ribs, “You got nine toes or something?!”

It was my turn to roar with laughter.

“What the-  _no_?!?!?!” I shook my head, grinning to myself as a number of warm, fuzzy memories flooded back into my head, “It’s just a dumb in-joke I had with my brother since kindergarten…’cause like…” I chuckled, suddenly finding my cheeks slightly flushed for absolutely no reason, “Uhhhh…it doesn’t matter.”

“Hey, you can’t just leave me hanging like that!” He chuckled as he exhaled some more smoke in my direction, “Finish the story, goddammit!”

“Okay, okay. So, when I was a kid, I was like, highkey obsessed with cats.”

He stared at me, eyes a little wide with a kind of knowing. I thought nothing of it.

“And you know how cats have nine lives, right?” I just…laughed, still pretty embarrassed by this random confession, practically swallowing my own words, “Yeah. So. I’m a cat, with nine lives. Nines. It’s dumb, but…there you go.”

When I looked back at him, I was surprised to see he was suddenly on his phone, grinning his face off.

_Oh shit, he just thinks I’m super fucking weird now…he’s probably texting Tina to tell her what I just- SHIT, Richard, why d’you gotta go and be such a dumbass-_

A ginger cat.

A tubby, fluffy, adorable, gorgeous fluff ball of a ginger cat, wriggling about happily in a video clip as a familiar chunky, ash-stained, slightly veiny hand tickled its tummy over and over. Gavin turned up the volume slightly so I could hear the intense, almost growling purrs emulating from this adorable, beautiful monster of a kitty…

That’s it. Gone. I was fucking weak. I grabbed his phone right off him and bit my lip, going bright red, trying to stifle squeals of AWWWWWWWWWW-

“Only used to be highkey obsessed, huh?” His knowing grin said it all. I looked back at him. I swallowed. And then I just burst out into more, raucous hysterics.

“I don’t blame you, buddy,” he took the phone back off me, “His name’s Toby, by the way. He’s the fuckin’ best.” And then he flicked the phone back to his lock screen…to yet another wonderful photo of that gorgeous creature…

_“Oh my god what the fuck he’s SO FREAKING CUTE!”_

Definitely didn’t mean for that high-pitched ridiculousness to actually leave my mouth, but in some ways, I’m glad it did. He grinned.

“Hell, don’t I know it,” he immediately went and opened photo album after photo album dedicated to this ginger champ. “I’m a lucky guy.”

I laughed. “So much for _Tina Bae_ , huh?! She wouldn’t get a look in…”

“No, she wouldn’t,” he smirked back at me, clicking the phone locked and returning it to his pocket, “‘Cause I gave up on dating girls in tenth grade. Surprised it took me so long to realise I wasn’t into them…but hey. Y’know. Everyone’s journey to self-discovery is different, I guess.” He stood up. “Oh, and for your information…Tina’s bi.”

As he turned and walked back inside, I was left staring after him, speechless, until way after the door had clicked shut. And when I made my way back to my desk, minutes later, to find another decaf latte on my desk…

_Uh…so…mission accomplished, Richard._


	4. Only A Trainee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off they go on their first case together…that’s all I’m gonna say! It’s obviously based loosely on one of the missions that happens in the game…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: a couple of moments depicting violence, blood (although not too much), Gavin being a sarcastic asshole. Yeah, that’s about it.
> 
> You can also find this on my blog https://detroit-become-writings.tumblr.com/post/182607346878/strawberries-cigarettes-humanrk900-x-gavin

****_Thursday September 15th, 2039_

_07:47_

“Dropped the nerd glasses especially for your first big cop mission, did ya, four-eyes?”

I didn’t even bother to look away as I rolled my eyes at my Detective partner’s snarky remark. “Well, how would you like it if you’d gotten yourself knocked out with the added impact of thousands of shards of glass flying in your face, hmm?”

Gavin paused, drumming a finger on the wheel of the police car, staring dead ahead at the traffic mounting before us. I swear I saw his nose twitch slightly, almost nervously.

“Common sense is common sense, dipshit.” He scoffed defensively, “…betcha didn’t learn that at Harvard, did ya, huh?” And with that, he rubbed the scar on his nose bridge self-consciously.

“No,” I muttered, now staring hard out the passenger window so as to avoid eye contact as I deadpanned my response, “But I pride myself in being able to match up basic actions and consequences.”

He snorted, slapping the wheel twice in laughter. “Are you for fuckin’ real?!”

I turned back, just to give myself the benefit of staring him down, silently and coolly. Gavin’s eyes flickered in my direction, caught mine, and he quickly looked away, rubbing his nose scar again…nervously.

While yesterday had been a breakthrough in terms of actually beginning to cooperate - even almost enjoying working together - today was a different matter. Fowler was watching our every move on this case. And it seemed we were both pretty different when it came to dealing with pressure…

It was a homicide case. A poor guy had been reportedly pushed off the roof of the Detroit Urban Farm in the early hours of Monday morning, and we were now the fourth team that Fowler had sent out to investigate, three days later. It was proving an impossible task to piece together what should have been a simple series of events. Fowler wasn’t one for giving up, but sending in Team Disaster - as I’m sure Gavin and I were secretly called by our colleagues - really meant the Captain’s reputation was in trouble. A failure would have serious repercussions for all concerned. Not only was Gavin’s badge on the line, but Fowler’s - and believe me, it sure wasn’t a fun position to be wedged between two assholes and their giant egos on your second week in a new job, especially when you’re only a trainee.

Gavin swerved into an Urban Farm parking lot, not even bothering to park in the actual lot, but left the lights flashing and leapt out of the car like he was trying to kid himself that he was in an action movie, and jogged over to the entrance of the building, where an area had been cordoned off, and all sorts of staff members and other cops were bustling about. To be honest, I’m surprised he even bothered to lock the goddam vehicle.

Sighing, I slammed the car door shut and strode briskly over to the action. I had barely caught up with the belligerent dumbass, who was busy sharing a joke with an exhausted Chris Miller who’d just finished a long night on duty, when a familiar warm hand grasped my shoulder.

“Uncle Hank?!” I wheeled around, eyes wide, as both my uncle and my twin brother came into view. Gavin glanced over his shoulder at my exclamation and sniggered a little too loudly, nudging Chris in the ribs,

“Oh, and here’s Ol’ Man Anderson, come to babysit his nephew-”

“We’ve been sent by Fowler t’ keep an eye on ya,” Hank announced firmly, shooting a knowing glare at Gavin, one which swiftly wiped the smug grin from the Detective’s lips, “On both of ya.”

It was Chris’s turn to nudge Gavin in the ribs.

_09:56_

Two hours had passed and there was no sign of progress. The four of us had been everywhere - on the roof, in the main farm building, in every single goddam storage room on the site…and there was nothing. No signs, nowhere. It was, to put it mildly, infuriating.

Gavin hadn’t looked me in the eye once since Hank had arrived. It was almost like he was playing some kind of game with me. Even when I spoke up and suggested some new possible leads, he just…literally would look the other way. So much for being cooperative. I swear to God, I dealt well under pressure but this time, my fuse was short enough as it was without him throwing a spanner in the works…

And then, as if stuck in a never-ending purgatory, we were back up on the rooftop, facing the Fall sun which still seemed to glare blindingly and uncomfortably off of the shiny, white plastic of the farm roof. Connor and I were once again down on our hands and knees, scanning the area for traces of DNA using some new-fangled laser technology the DPD had begun using only last month, when I swore I caught Gavin approach me from behind…staring, right at me. I…sort of froze there and then, perplexed, turning my head to catch his eye and to shoot him a slightly bewildered look, when to my embarrassment I realised he was not, in fact, staring at my ass…

“Hey,” he announced, his voice rising hopefully, crouching down beside me, “Looks like you found somethin’!”

My eyes shot back at him. Not gonna lie, I was definitely temporarily knocked off focus by…well, uh, never mind…

“Jeez, he’s right,” Hank appeared from nowhere, and suddenly we were all crowded around a tiny, half-inch square that had been darkened by my laser pen. Some DNA had been recognised from the database of suspects, and it dated back at least four days.

“Yeah. The DNA matches 89% with Suspect #3AZ, Rupert Travis,” mumbled Connor from a few feet away, running the analytics for us on his portable terminal.

“Good goin’, son,” my uncle patted my shoulder roughly with a small grin, “Keep at it.”

“Jeez,” Gavin let out an exhausted sigh, sweat-drenched face resting wearily in his hand, “N’ there I was thinking we were done for…” He elbowed me slightly as he stood up - obviously on purpose, although he made it look like an accident. I just shot him another look. What the hell did he think he was playing at…

_It’s stress, Richard. Stress messes with your head, remember?_

I clambered up from the floor to join my Detective partner as he took a brief moment of pause to view the stunning, wide-angled vista overlooking Detroit. As grimy and polluted as it had always been, I couldn’t help marvelling, just for a short moment, at how glorious the city looked, all lit-up in the golden September sunlight. From the heat up on this rooftop, it could’ve easily been mid-July, a scorching summer’s day…or maybe that was just the thick material of our uniforms…

“Nice view, huh?” Gavin muttered nonchalantly out of the corner of his mouth, eyes straight ahead at the view, almost like he was avoiding my gaze, arms folded across his chest protectively. As I looked back at him, I suddenly noticed his nose-scar again…there was definitely something kind of - well, I couldn’t put it into words. It was as if his face in that moment was kind of…illuminated, almost. His eyes, although squinting in the bright sunlight, seemed a kind of deeper blue, almost green in this light. It was…

“Hey, Rich?” My brother’s voice resounded behind me, snapping me out of my daze in a rush of guilty adrenaline for having been momentarily distracted from the case, “Can you run that sample again, there’s been a processing error…”

“O-on it,” I stuttered, fumbling with my laser pen and crouching down inelegantly by the marked spot. I scanned for 30s, but for some reason, the pen kept faltering. I grimaced, forcing it to stay on, almost breaking the on-button in frustration…

“Here. Lemme try.”

A familiar pair of boots appeared in my vision. I barely had a chance to catch the grey-blue-green eyes before they were down at my height, hand outstretched. Gavin didn’t even try to take the pen off of me, show me how much better he could do because he was the Detective and I wasn’t. It was almost like he was trying to play humble, for once.

My nerves got the better of me. I slammed the pen into his outstretched palm and stood up, marching away from the scene with a kind of repulsion. What the fuck was wrong with me, the one day I needed to freaking concentrate on my work, and I found myself gazing at this stupid asshole again, this idiotic dumbass who deserved little more than two seconds of my time-

“Connor! CONNOR, IT’S HIM!”

Hank’s shout once again cut across my self-centred internal complaining. I snapped around just in time to see Hank grabbing Connor’s arm, racing to the railing at the edge of the rooftop. Someone had been spotted fleeing among the cabbage plantation down below. Someone who had brought up a red alert on Connor’s terminal…

It was now or never. Do or die.

It must have been that thing they call ESP. Twin-senses. Telepathy. I don’t know what you call it, but the next two minutes of my life were entirely run by base instincts.

I grabbed my brother’s arm, he grabbed mine, discarding the terminal. We both leapt from the upper rooftop onto the lower level, racing for the ladders that would get us to ground. Barely even climbing the rungs, we slid to the ground, Connor slipping and falling the last few feet, ignoring his badly-grazed knee, as we sprinted together in exact unison towards the fugitive.

It took us all of about ten seconds. I sprung from the ground and leapt, pouncing like a tiger, and tackled the dude to the ground while Connor armed himself, pinning the struggling criminal to the floor with his foot. Poor guy didn’t know what in the hell had hit him. For future reference, it’s called: Anderson twins.

“DON’T MOVE!”

Shouts and yells from nearby blurred into nothing as I struggled with the vicious suspect. He knocked a punch to my jaw and Connor kicked him in the head. But it was becoming too much. Neither of us were built for wrestling…this guy was starting to put up too much of a fight for us-

“I said,  _don’t fuckin’ move_!”

Hands grasped at my shoulders and wrenched me away, just as my burning biceps were about to give in from the intense force of holding the suspect down. Next thing I knew, the suspect had stopped moving. He was out, cold. Gavin was sprawled on top of the suspect, his knuckles bleeding. There was nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and dripping sweat.

Our eyes locked once again, just as my uncle dragged me to my feet, enveloping both his nephews in an embrace.

“Jesus Christ, ya went n’ did it,” Hank was puffing and panting, but nothing could wipe the proud grin from his face.

“It was Rich,” my twin smiled back at me, “He got him down. I just kept him at gunpoint.”

I was too pumped with adrenaline and exhausted from my impromptu wrestling match to utter a coherent response.

As Hank and a few other officers dealt with the unconscious criminal, administering handcuffs and removing him from the area, I was left standing, staring, still in violent shock from what had just unfolded. Connor patted my shoulder as he went to assist Hank, not even paying any mind to the blood still dripping from out of the torn material from his kneecap. I couldn’t move, yet.

There was a figure still on the ground, crouching, panting. My attention fell to Gavin, just as he turned his face to me. Whatever Connor said, there was no way in hell I would have kept that guy down if Gavin hadn’t intervened. He picked himself up from the floor, also paying no mind to his bruised, bloody knuckles and the fresh graze-marks across his left cheek. But none of that seemed to matter… His eyes never left mine.

“Ol’ uncle was right. Ya did good,” he muttered, nodding at me slightly, almost deferentially, “For only a trainee.”

_18:34_

“So… How was your hardcore ‘Detectives Only’ meeting?”

“Pfft,” Connor snorted at me as he threw me back my packet of gum, his walking slightly impeded by the wrapping on his knee. “There’s nothing hardcore about listening to Fowler say fuck all for 30 minutes every Thursday evening…”

I sniggered in response. “More reasons to delay my promotion, I guess…”

“Well, don’t count your lucky stars, dude,” Connor grinned at me cheekily, in that way only my twin could, practically nudging me in the ribs as we crossed the street to the block where Hank lived, “Detective Asshole reported to Fowler what a great job you did on the case today, and what an efficient partner you are. I’d even go as far as to say he was…proud of you.”

I just…stopped.

My heart thudded against my ribcage. My cheeks were suddenly burning, for no reason whatsoever. I swallowed. My gaze fell to a spot on the sidewalk, popping a gum in my mouth in an attempt to appear busy…

_It’s stress, Richard. Stress messes with your head, remember?_

… _Remember?_

I lifted my gaze to the buildings on the opposite side of the street, my eyes gleaming like the sunlight reflected off the glass facades, no longer able to suppress a smile I didn’t even realise I was hiding.

“Yeah, I guess I did…” I mumbled, distantly, “…for only a trainee.”

And out of the corner of my eye, I swear I saw Connor raise an eyebrow at me, just a little.


End file.
